


brick and mortar

by serein (koshitsu_kamira)



Series: Headspace [2]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Fluff, Light Angst, M/M, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Reflection, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 18:12:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9337019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/koshitsu_kamira/pseuds/serein
Summary: Taeyong contemplates the limits of a heart in love.





	

Silly as it sounded, Taeyong swore the key, that he had been carrying around all morning, was steadily burning a hole in his back pocket, despite the bitter weather or his sweaty palm, anxious fingers tinkering with the perfectly innocuous object, thumb dragging along the serrated edge, a nervous tic he developed while watching Youngho and Taeil peruse the ice cream flavours displayed. Shuffling closer, he feigned interest, gaze absently scanning over the selection, almost failing to catch the burning question on the tip of his tongue the very last moment when Taeil nudged him, wearing a pretty smile, and asked which types they should purchase; mind short circuiting, frazzled, he stuttered an unsteady “mint chocolate chip” albeit his intense dislike regarding the particular taste. From the corner of his eye, Taeyong spotted Youngho staring, expression puzzled, a little amused perhaps, but fortunately he didn’t comment the other’s dubious choice, allowing the eldest to place their convoluted order incorporating half the menu, a minor disaster in progress, judging by the cashier’s poorly concealed disgust as Taeil rattled off the items. 

Predictably, they left the parlour with a vague sugar induced nausea coiling in their stomachs, the perplexing combination of daiquiri, cotton candy, then belgian truffles semi-permanently adhered to their palates; yet Taeyong felt contentment spread throughout his body, a mellow warmth infusing every breath as he observed Taeil and Youngho’s antics a step ahead. The pair was swaying giddy on the sidewalk, engaged in a lively conversation about the latest movies seen - going by Youngho’s animated gestures, wide arm movements, the taller boy was gushing of the gorgeous aerial shots, the ingenious angles the director had utilized, repeatedly calling the film a “masterpiece” Taeil should doubtlessly view. Chuckle effervescent, Taeyong wordlessly followed the couple, pinky finger linked with the elder’s, flimsy hold remaining unbroken, and blinked the pale winter sunlight away, filtering through the bouncy curls Taeil hair had settled into after shower; glancing at the steel blue river, he pondered whether one day resentment would replace the heartfelt satisfaction still unfamiliar, recently found. 

Taeyong and Youngho’s relationship had been at the precipice half a year ago, balance delicate, precariously fragile, the seams fraying due to the friction, the unsolved conflicts festering between the two boys whose similar personality traits ironically prevented efficient communication: their strong resemblance only prolonged the silence maintained, broadened the distance they kept. After all, obstinacy, stubborn pride did not allow lowered guards, nor shown hands notwithstanding the genuine affection they both felt towards each other, the sentiment easily forgotten during a heated argument born out of trifles, leaving the parties involved resentful, increasingly reluctant to make amends - often, Taeyong himself wondered if they should have stayed friends. Then again, came the immediate rebuttal, he would have missed out on the boyish grin adorning Youngho’s face upon waking up, the slight rasp his voice adopted late at night or the sweltering heat of his bare skin, tacky from perspiration; furthermore he couldn’t have learnt the dreams propelling the older man forward, the experiences having shaped his mindset.

Although Taeyong was a declared pessimist, disposition firmly grounded in reality which left meager room for idealistic daydreams, he refused to yield, let go of the hand anchoring him as the waves crashed over, storm clouds blocked the North Star showing the route home, he couldn’t simply walk away, ditch the person who had always trusted him without conditions. Therefore, sleep abandoned, he took considerable time on figuring out a system that might satisfy their particular situation, examined the possible options, even contemplated an open relationship before stumbling on the prospect of polyamory - naturally, Taeyong knew how wrong, questionable his motives appeared, an issue Youngho voiced at once. “ _ We shouldn’t take advantage of people, no matter the reason, _ ” he had said, wide eyes solemn, downcast like the murky weather in November, bleak and unforgiving, the stark emotion on his face startling; looking at the other boy, Taeyong nodded slowly, conceding, having understood the words left inarticulate, “ _ certainly, _ ” he muttered, smile fracturing.

Initially, Taeyong had reckoned the attempts, while frequently unsuccessful, worthed the time and emotional investment required, for every hour spent apart was another instance where they reclaimed a fragment of their self lost along the way; the realization to what extent they relied on the other to define their self, boundaries was frightening, disquieting, he remembered. The awareness of their gradually surfacing differences later helped a great deal with establishing a basic guideline regarding the relationship they were about enter, however the negotiation remained undoubtedly challenging despite the clear improvement in articulating their interests, concerns - the process was akin to getting acquainted all over again, the slate wiped clean. As expected, the transition didn’t become any less complicated when Taeil finally made a quiet entrance, gentle Spring creeping on a frozen hill; his presence brought complications Taeyong hadn’t explored previously, thus frankly, he felt out of depth, struggling to contain the variables until Youngho excused themselves mid-date, leading his partner aside. “ _ We are doing this together, okay? _ ” the elder said, tone hushed, careful palms cradling Taeyong’s jaw, a tactile link to the present, “ _ give us a chance to take care of you _ ,” Youngho cajoled, thumbing the harsh frown lines bracketing the other’s mouth, who, caught off guard, just nodded, unconscious of the anxiety having manifested on his face, displayed plainly in his posture.

“Are you feeling okay?” Taeil asked, dainty fingers moving to wrap around his wrist, establish a connection, sounding distinctly worried since Taeyong still hadn’t joined the ongoing discussion; right beside, Youngho paused, observing the youngest deliberately, head tilted at a slight angle, reminiscent of a curious puppy who had discovered a new plaything - “I was lost in thought,” replied the other, grinning softly for reassurance. Blinking slow, Taeil hummed, indecisive, scanning the younger’s features attentively, not quite convinced by the evasive answer, “he’s probably plotting ways to make your flat more organized,” Youngho chimed in, snicker unconcealed, whereas the petite man pouted, then stomped his sneaker clad feet on the ground, “I did tidy the rooms!” he exclaimed, petulant. Stifling his laughter, Taeyong huffed a derisive “sure,” which elicited a strangled wail from the elder, the tip of his ears turning tea rose pink, “let’s see if I would invite you over next time,” he grumbled, peevish, but allowed the other boy siddle closer, squeezing the hand the younger had shoved unceremoniously inside his coat pocket, seeking warmth and contact.

Huddled against Taeil’s side, the elder’s wool scarf tickling his cheek, the haunting afterthoughts eventually faded into the background noise, merged with the ambiguous din of vehicles coasting past the walkway, shoes clacking on the flagstone; breathing somehow became easier, Taeyong mused, the pressure constricting his chest having disappeared. Matching his stride to Taeil’s swift and nimble steps, content in his silence, Taeyong listened idly while Youngho and the eldest continued their lighthearted chatter through the journey home, the same route only two of them had taken before, with the curbside splintered in places, the the paint job of the street sign flaking off - everything included, the scenery hadn’t changed at all. They were also happy back in those days, when he and Youngho had moved in together, surmised Taeyong, recalling the memories that involved midnight snack runs to the convenience store across the street, and heart-to-heart talks at daybreak, the horizon glowing pale yellow, the world surrounding them asleep; pausing, he wondered whether this current happiness was genuine or solely a trick of mind. Taeil deserved sincere emotions, not empty devotion fueled by desperation, Taeyong mulled, pensive, gaze tracing the other’s smiling profile, and felt his lungs tighten, prickle in an echo of an answer as the elder giggled, the sound akin to the April sprinkle in a balmy afternoon, spattering on the window pane; clutching on the tassel keychain, he inhaled deep, having arrived at the conclusion.

The trio turned left around the corner, where an ordinary brick and mortar townhouse stood, the roof lined with clay tiles, reminiscent of traditional Korean dwellings: Taeyong had always loved the whimsical detail which clashed with the sleek, minimalistic outline characterizing the building - different might be unnerving, he concluded, staring absently at the awning, since it implied qualities obscure. Similarly, the future they faced was largely unknown, much like the outcome of the adventures depicted in the novels Youngho preferred reading every so often; if someone asked, honestly, Taeyong himself wasn’t entirely certain how Taeil’s presence would alter, influence their life, however, he decided, all was fine and well, therefore when the other boy reached to input the entrance code, he simply thrusted the key into the elder’s palm.

“It’s yours,” Taeyong murmured, watching silently as wonder lit up Taeil’s eyes, delight sparkled within cinnamon brown irises, “really?” he mouthed, incredulous, sneaking a glance at Youngho who beamed, although the younger had kept him in the dark regarding the plan, “absolutely,” they insisted, both following the unsteady motion of the other opening the door. 

“I’m home,” Taeil announced to no one in particular, voice lilting shakily, then stepped inside the house, and a sense of peace, rightness washed over Taeyong like the high tide would submerge the sandy beach.


End file.
